


Hawke in the Fade

by Ashfae



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Drama, F/M, Fade Demons, Fade Spirits, Gen, Illusions, In the Fade, Mabari, Sarcasm, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashfae/pseuds/Ashfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to Hawke at the end of Here Lies the Abyss. Major spoilers for Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawke in the Fade

Hawke knelt next to a giant severed spider leg, several times her own height. " _That_ mattered," she rasped. She swallowed a few times, then spat on the ground. "Bastard," she added, as an afterthought. Next to her, Teo growled his agreement. 

She heard a low snarl off in the distance. Nightmare wasn't dead, of course. It was too powerful a demon, and even she wasn't good enough to take out something _that_ big, especially not with just her own two hands and a dog. It'd taken six of them just to defeat one small piece. The Inquisitor forcing the rift closed had done the real work here; whatever was involved with that had unleashed some sort of force-blast on this side, which she'd mostly escaped by hugging the ground. If the spirit of the Divine (or whatever she'd been) was correct, Nightmare was trapped in the Fade, and hopefully in several pieces right now. 

Several sentient, demony pieces, which might not be able to do anything more for Corypheus but which would no doubt all be very glad to take a little revenge out on her. Though not yet, it seemed. It'd crawled off to lick its wounds in private, or whatever the equivalent was for a Fade monstrosity. She couldn't count on that lasting, however.

Hawke sighed and forced herself to her feet. "Come on, old boy," she murmured. Teo whined, looking at the place where the rift had been. Hawke grimaced. "I know. But they won't be coming back for us. They probably can't, and even if they could, there's saving the world from Serah Tall, Dead, and Darkspawny to deal with. Priorities." 

She looked around. Things didn't seem promising. Stuck in the Fade, and a particularly uncharming part of it: green sky, rocks with giant embedded skeletons, and a landscape that kept changing its mind about which way was up. She had a number of wounds, most minor, some less so, all of them bleeding more than was good for her. Teo wasn't in better shape. She was out of arrows. Any more fighting would have to be up close and personal, which was usually her preference, but not so good when she was already losing blood. For once, she was able to honestly say that things couldn't get worse. 

But she was Hawke. She didn't quit. It didn't matter that there was no way out. She wasn't going to stay here and wait for death, even if it was an inevitability.

"Come on," she said again, picking a direction at random and walking towards it. Solas had said that the Fade shaped itself to intent and emotion, that remaining focused on a goal would take you to it. Anders had said something similar, long ago. But she didn't have a goal. She'd just have to see what she found, or what would find her.

It beat staying here, at any rate. "Always the Maker-damned spiders, and always the Maker-damned spider guts," she grumbled, making her way through them into relatively cleaner pastures. Teo limped by her side, favoring one of his front legs. A few leftover fearlings ran into the path in front of her. She waved a dagger vaguely in their direction. "Oh, piss off, would you?" Somewhat to her surprise, they did. Maybe she had a reputation in the Fade now, or at least this corner of it. That would come in handy. At least, until everything realized she was badly injured and vulnerable.

"You never can do things the easy way, can you, Hawke."

She missed a step, half-whirling in horror; beside her, Teo whined again. "Why didn't--" 

She stopped, took a breath. Even as she saw him--it--she knew it wasn't really Varric. She should have expected this. It still took her a moment before she could respond. He looked so real. "That's really not a bad resemblance, you know," she said, forcing her tone to stay even. "But you don't have enough chest hair to be believable. Nice try."

Not-Varric chuckled. "Like I said. Never the easy way."

He started walking down the path. After a moment's hesitation, she followed, warily, for lack of anywhere better to go. "So what are you, then?" she asked. "Another fear thing? A demon of Friends I Owe Money To? There's an unexpected advantage of being stuck here. I won't have to pay him back."

"I keep telling you, Hawke. I'm just a businessman and a storyteller." Varric shot her his familiar grin, the _and if you believe that, I have a mansion in Orlais to sell you_ one. And Maker damn her, she couldn't help but grin back. 

"Not much to buy or sell here, I imagine." She did notice that any remaining fearlings were giving them a wide berth. Because of her, or him/it? "Or do you make a profit on goop-covered rocks?"

"Hey, I'll have you know the goop-covered rocks I provide are of the _highest_ quality. Much better than this crap."

"Mm-hmm." The landscape around them all looked the same to her, an endless morass of...well, Fade. And she was gradually slowing down. She kept walking. "So, where are we going?" He seemed to have a destination even if she didn't.

"Away."

Her mouth quirked again, remembering the night she'd left Kirkwall. Isabela had asked if she had a destination in mind. _I was thinking 'away from here.' Does that work for you?_ It was ironic, really, how much of her life had been spent trying to get away from places. Why stop now? "And what exactly are you planning, hmm? You can't possess me and run around in the world. I'm _here_. You'd just be running around in a prettier body with more holes in it."

"I'm just repaying a favor, Hawke. You know I like debts to be owed to me, not the other way around."

Hawke snorted. "Pretty sure I haven't done any spirits or demons any favors lately."

Varric waved a hand. "Let's just say Ugly back there doesn't have many friends, and leave it at that."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes. She could stab it, she supposed. She wouldn't enjoy killing something that looked like one of her best friends, but she'd do it. There didn't seem much point, however. It wasn't doing anything to her, as far as she could tell. 

She kept her hand pressed to her side, where the worst injury was, and winced. It didn't need to do anything to her, really. She'd done enough to herself already. Teo looked up at her and whined again, smelling her blood and pain. She rubbed his head with her free hand and didn't try to comfort him. He'd know better.

"Here we go. Your ticket out of here." 

Varric held up his hands presentation-style, framing a space between two pillars for her. It shimmered with multicolored light. She suspected that if she poked it, it would ripple. "My ticket where?" she asked, suspicious. "You can't tell me this leads out of the Fade. That's impossible."

"Yeah, it is, but this'll at least get you away from this particular shithole." He looked regretful. "Wish I could go along, but this is all I can manage. I owe you better, but--"

"Stop that," she said, a little harsh. The look on his face was a guilty stab somewhere in her heart. The real Varric would be devastated about this. "Whatever you are, you don't owe me anything. I just met you. What are you trying to pull and why?"

He shrugged. "I told you. Ugly back there doesn't have many friends. And you've always had a knack for making alliances in unexpected places."

Something about the way he stressed _alliances_ made her give him a second glance. All right, there could be spirits of friendship, she supposed. It was possible.

She stared at the entrance. Ultimately what decided her was that she really had nothing to lose. Staying here was a bad option. Going somewhere unknown might be a worse option, but the pain in her side and the dizzy way her head spun told her it wouldn't be a worse option for long, whatever was on the other side.

"All right," she said finally, stepping forward. "Thanks."

"Just watch yourself, Hawke." She didn't want to look at him again, didn't want to see that look of sorrow on Varric's face. But once she had, she also had to take the hand he held outstretched and grip it, just for a moment. "Now get out of here before I say something mushy. My reputation couldn't take it."

Hawke's mouth twitched. "Neither could mine."

She stepped through, Teo at her side.

* * *

Hawke shook her head, briefly dizzy. It was probably the heat; she still wasn't used to Kirkwall summers, not after growing up so much further south. She shuddered to think of what it must be like in Rivain.

Kirkwall. Yes, of course Kirkwall. She looked around, not sure why she felt so disoriented. This was her library, after all; she knew it like the back of her hand, from the terrible trophy-head-thing above the fireplace to the even more terrible romance novels that Isabela had inserted onto the shelves. Which she enjoyed, not that she'd ever admit it. That would ruin the game.

So what was wrong? She put a hand to her head, frowning. 

"Are you all right, sister?"

Hawke turned slowly. "Bethany?"

It was Bethany, dressed casually and standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. She looked faintly worried. "Are you feeling all right?"

Hawke waved a hand in dismissal automatically. She didn't want Bethany worried. Bethany had spent too much of her life being afraid, despite her attempts to prevent it. "Fine, fine. Just distracted." She felt a weight against her thigh and looked down. Teo was there, of course, where he should be. He looked confused too, in his fashion, craning his head around to look at the rest of his body as though searching for something. He looked up at her and gave one short bark.

Bethany smiled, moving into the room. "If you're still trying to find a way out of the event tonight, you might as well give up. I think Mother will drag us by our hair if she has to."

"Yes, well, someday I'll manage to out-stubborn her." That was an old family joke, also automatic. Hawke came by her determination honestly, but when she and her mother butted heads, Leandra usually won. Hawke frowned again. "What event?"

Bethany rolled her eyes. "Faking amnesia won't work either, sister. The ball at the Viscount's palace, of course. You can't possibly forget, seeing as it's partly in the Champion's honor." She places a hand on her sister's shoulder, smiling fondly. "You should be more proud, you know. The city hasn't been so peaceful for years. Even the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander have a truce, though it _is_ grudging."

"At least they've stopped arguing in the street." _Short of putting those two in cells, I doubt anything will keep them from each other._ Yes, she remembered that, remembered the Grand Cleric thanking her for intervening. But she'd known at the time it wouldn't really help for long, and it hadn't.

Hadn't it?

Hawke looked at Bethany. "What are you doing here?"

Bethany laughed. "I live here? I've lived here for years, ever since we finally escaped from Uncle Gamlen's spare room? Even the Chantry can't lock up the Champion's sister." Her smile was a beam of sunshine, untouched by any fear. "For the first time ever, we have a home we don't have to be afraid of losing. I just wish Father and Carver were here, too."

There was a sinking feeling in Hawke's stomach. She didn't know why, didn't want to examine it closely. Didn't want to keep asking the questions she knew she had to ask. "Where's Mother?"

"At the dressmaker's. Again." Bethany looked equal parts exasperated and secretly pleased. "I know I've never been to an actual ball before, but she doesn't need to keep having our dresses altered. I think she just enjoys making the modiste flustered."

"Oh, Maker." Hawke groaned. Dresses were all right now and then, though not her first preference, but ballgowns were another matter entirely. "Why can't I wear my armor? I didn't get my title by standing around looking pretty."

"Because Mother threatened to throw you into the Bone Pit and leave you there if you dared." She laughed again. When had Hawke last heard Bethany laugh? "Besides, you can't dance properly in armor."

"I can't dance properly anyway." It was said absently. Hawke was looking around the room again. It was just as she remembered it, details she wouldn't have thought she knew. Knots in the wood of the bookshelves, even.

"You could if you wanted to. You just need the right partner." Bethany's eyes twinkled. "Or if you don't want them, send them my way. I'm looking forward to the dancing."

Yes, Bethany would enjoy that. A chance to be admired, to be seen, instead of having to hide away; but at the same time just one of the crowd. Just another girl enjoying herself at a dance... 

Hawke knew the answer to this riddle, and she didn't like it one bit. She reached down and gripped Teo's fur, at the base of his neck, grounding herself. That, at least, felt real. _Andraste's mercy, let that much be real._ He whined faintly, sensing her distress, and leaned hard against her leg. If she concentrated she could see his torn ear, the gashes in his side oozing blood. 

Hawke closed her eyes. The smells and sounds were still there, all of it as real as she wanted it to be.

If she wanted it to be.

"Marian?"

She opened her eyes, swallowing over the sudden lump in her throat. "You only call me that when you're annoyed with me."

"Or when I'm worried about you." There was the small crinkle between Bethany's brows. Hawke knew it as well as she knew her own skin. Give the demon credit, it paid attention to details. It kept speaking. "You won't let me get away with it any other time. You do look pale, though. Maybe you should lie down for a while, before tonight?"

Hawke shook her head, not in denial of the question but of the whole situation. Nightmare had been easier. She was used to dealing with her fears. She tugged Teo's fur and walked towards the door, keeping her hand on his head. If this was her mabari and not another illusion, she wanted to be sure he stayed with her.

"Sister?"

Bethany's voice was pleading. Hawke paused in front of the open doorway, but didn't look back. "It would have been good," she said. "I'll give you that much. For all my protesting, that would've been a good life."

She walked through the door before the thing that wasn't her sister could respond.

* * *

Hawke knew this area was another illusion at once, which was a relief, because she was back at the Gallows, except worse. The giant slave statues all had her friends' faces: Fenris, Merrill, Isabela, everyone, frozen in rock and bound by chains. Aveline knelt under an impossible weight, the determination on her face as clear as ever despite the enormity of her task; opposite her, Cullen knelt in the same position, gritting his teeth as he tried to prop up the city. 

Hawke snorted at the symbolism. It helped, actually, to have things laid out so obviously for her. It made it easier to dismiss. 

It was harder to ignore all the corpses in the courtyard. There were hundreds, mages and Templars and civilians alike, piled higher than her head. Many were familiar to her, people she'd seen in passing or done business with or been on friendly terms with. It looked like half the city. It probably was half the city. Teo whined, moving back and forth, clearly wanting to be somewhere else, fast. Hawke agreed, fervently.

She threaded her way through the bodies, looking around for something she could use as an exit. It didn't have to be a real door, just something she could make herself pretend was a door. Those pillars over there would do.

"You already walked away once, Champion." Grand Cleric Elthina stepped from behind one of the piles, her skin charred, her robes burned at the edges. The light from the explosion that had killed her still fired the sky. Hawke kept walking. Another light to the side proved to be the red lyrium thing Knight-Commander Meredith had become, pulsing angrily.

The Grand Cleric's voice was stern, disapproving. "Will you abandon us again? Leave those who are stronger than you to carry all the weight alone?"

Hawke barked out a laugh, not pausing in her stride. "If you can see inside my head enough to pull all of this out of it, you know I never left." The strength she had here was an illusion too, but one she used to good effect, sprinting for the pillars and concentrating grimly. She needed somewhere real, or as real as the Fade got. _Away._

* * *

The weight of all her injuries hit her again as she stumbled out the other side of the portal, staggering her. She fell to her knees, bent over and breathing hard. It was a moment before she recognized the sound in her ears as Teo whining. He pushed at her shoulder with his head. 

"All right, old boy, all _right_." She took a deep breath and forced herself back to her feet, leaning a little of her weight on her mabari as she did it. "You're even more stubborn than I am. And a good thing, too." 

She looked up, then around. It was another impossible landscape, which in the circumstances was more of a relief than not. The sky was blue and cloudless, but there was no sun, even though there was plenty of light. The Black City was a shadow in the distance. The rest of it was flowers. An endless flat landscape of wildflowers, small and white and waving in a non-existent wind. At least, she hoped they were wildflowers, and not something symbolic again.

For lack of a better direction, and because of mild curiosity, she started walking towards the Black City. Maybe she'd get lucky, arrive there and find the Maker back on his throne, get to ask him what in the Void he was thinking to allow all this mess.

It seemed hours later (but was probably only minutes, she didn't have hours) that she turned her head to see how much progress she'd made, hoping that at least the portal back to 'Kirkwall' was out of sight. She frowned. It was, but what was strange was that she was leaving no tracks. No crushed flowers in her wake, no bloodstains on white petals. She lifted her hand from where it was holding her thigh, rubbing two crimson fingers together absently, then shrugged. Maybe it meant something, but if it did, she didn't know what.

She started walking again. The Black City didn't look any closer, and the landscape was no less endless. But she was Hawke and she didn't quit, and this place was definitely better than being hauled through her own blighted past made manifest, so she kept walking.

It seemed hours later again when her foot slipped under her. She fell hard, ending in a heap on her left side. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

Teo _whuffed_ and lay down next to her, exhaustion written in every inch of his large frame. Hawke rolled onto her back and looked at him sidelong. "I think we're nearing the end, boy," she murmured. She didn't think she could stand up again, not for long. "What do you think will happen, hmm? Even Varric couldn't have penned a death this bizarre. Except for the bleeding a lot from multiple wounds part. Let's face it, that was inevitable."

What happened if you died while physically in the Fade? What would happen if you just slept, come to that? Would she still come here to dream, her dream-self standing above her sleeping-self? Hawke let out a breath of a laugh at the way her mind was wandering. She'd know soon enough. And it figured, given her life, that she'd find an end like this.

"Only you could find something to laugh about in circumstances like these, sweetheart."

Hawke groaned. "You're late, whatever you really are," she said, not bothering to look over at the voice. "If you'd tried this sooner we could have had a glorious argument about everything that happened and it would at least have been cathartic. But right now I'm too damn tired for it. I've been too tired for years. So go away."

Anders sat down next to her, placing his staff longways amidst the flowers. He was wearing his old coat, the one that had finally fallen to pieces during that last year in Kirkwall. That hurt. She'd been half-prepared for something shaped like him to show up eventually, but it hurt anyway. He looked like the healer she'd first met, not the revolutionary he'd become. 

"You already sent me away once." There was no blame there. Well, there wouldn't be. He'd made it clear at the time that whatever fate she chose for him, he would accept, including his own death. He looked at down at her, reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her eyes. "I would never have left you otherwise, not by choice." 

She batted his hand away, wearily. "Yes, well, that whole _trying to be a martyr for the revolution_ thing rather belies that." It came out automatically, and she cursed herself for it at once. She was not going to talk to this thing like it was Anders, period. 

"That wasn't the goal. Just a consequence." He did sound regretful. Blight it. "I didn't think you--anyone--would let me live. Not after what I did."

"Oh, Maker, don't. Just don't." She let her arm flop over her eyes. "What are you after, spirit-demon-thing, hmm? What do you want?"

"Just to be with you. That's all."

She laughed. It sounded a bit hollow. "Definitely not Anders, then. That was never enough for him."

There was a moment of silence. "I wanted it to be," he said finally. "That's part of what I was fighting for, you know."

She sighed. "I know." It wasn't just that this wasn't Anders. He wasn't even based on the real Anders, he was pulled from her own thoughts and memories and conclusions, and Hawke knew those weren't necessarily accurate. Maker only knew how this conversation would be going if it were really Anders sitting next to her. 

Not this calmly, that much was certain. He'd be falling to pieces even more than Varric would. In that sense she was lucky neither of them were the real thing.

The sky was very clear and very blue. It occurred to her that maybe this place was pulled from Teo's wishes, rather than hers or something more random. An endless, sunny field to play in. He'd like that, if he had the energy; in some ways Teo was just a big, overgrown puppy. He was still next to her, and she reached over and rested a hand on his head. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.

"Can we at least say goodbye, this time?" His voice was so gentle it almost hurt her. "We didn't get to do that. Not really."

"I don't want a lie." It came out harsher than she intended. "That's all you are. That's all anything in this place is." She almost wished she could give in; what would it matter, when she was dying anyway? Who would it harm? 

But she'd never been very good at lying to herself.

"I don't want a lie," she repeated quietly. "Even now. Especially now."

He chuckled sadly. "You wouldn't. It's one of the things I loved most about you." He rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it. "It shouldn't be like this. You deserve better."

"If people got what they deserved, we'd have had a lot less to do." She let out a long, slow breath. "But this isn't so bad." She wasn't really hurting anymore. That was probably a bad sign, but she was too relieved about it to care. She was cold, though, and shivering. But it was a bright day--a sunny day with no sun, heh, thank you Fade--and her dog was with her. 

And she'd won, this time. "Did what I needed to do, didn't I?" Corypheus had lost his demon army. She might not have taken him out herself, not finished the job she unwittingly started years ago, but she did what was needed. All she could do, as best she could. That was enough. Finally, enough.

"You did, love." His hand was stroking her hair. Real or not, she didn't have it in her to make him stop again. "You always have."

Teo, with what appeared to be a monumental effort, lifted his head and rested it on her chest. She made a similar effort and lifted her hand so it rested on his back. "Then...s'not so bad," she said again. The words slurred coming out of her mouth. She closed her eyes, imagining she felt the sun she knew wasn't there. Teo shuddered and was still.

It was a few more minutes before the spirit stood up, its hand flecked with blood from her hair. It looked down at the pair of them for a long time before drifting away.


End file.
